


Just Checking In

by willyouboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Concerned Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, F/M, Female!Cas, Ficlet, Fluff, Genderbending, Genderswap, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Late Night Conversations, Men of Letters Bunker, Nervous Dean, Phone Calls & Telephones, Quiet, Rule 63, Short & Sweet, Tired Castiel, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willyouboy/pseuds/willyouboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s on a hunt with Sam while (chick) Cas is sleep and waiting at the bunker. He calls her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Checking In

They’ve been gone from the bunker for a few days.

The hunt is done now though and Sam has been asleep for a couple hours already. 

The hotel clock says it’s 2:37 in the morning.

Dean’s been watching it on and off since about 1.

He knew it was a dumb idea, but it’s too late, he’s already dialed her number and the ring he hears is dull and delayed before she answers.  
“. . .hello?”

All at once against his ear Cas sounds sick, androgynous, half-satisfied, close, blind and tired.

Dean almost smiles, and he almost hangs up.

“. . .it’s me.” Even to himself he sounds small. He thinks maybe she can’t hear him, but then she speaks after a heavy inhale.

“. .Are you okay?. . .is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

It’s not true, but it’s alright though because she doesn’t seem to notice while she’s yawning a sound that he figures means ‘Oh, okay.’

He can hear muffled evidence of her turning over. It’s a clutter of anonymous soft sounds rustling together but when Dean closes his eyes he can see the womblike state she’s in, drowning in a bed that’s too big for one person with her face smeared in her own dark hair and her limbs captured in her sheets, a mermaid caught in a feather blanket net. She’s probably pushed his pillow off the bed by now.

“I wish I was there.”

“. . .what? sorry, I think I dosed.”

Good. “It’s fine, I didn’t say anything.”

She let’s go of a gentle groan that crawls into his ear and accidentally cradles daydreams he’s been having of her lately. He presses the hard plastic of the phone closer so that he doesn’t miss her mutters. They make no sense but he likes them when she’s this tired, he’s not so sure since when. He really can’t say when this started, this parasitic joy, this comfort through proximity. 

He wishes he could be there a few hours later when the haze will gradually leave her eyes, wants to see that shade of blue, and he wants to be there when she stretches and her senses crackle alive one by one, he wants to be there to smell her warmth as much as feel it, but he’s on the wrong side of the phone for that, and right now she’s falling back to sleep and he’s unreasonably content somehow.

“Well, I’ll let you go then.” 

“. . .are you. .are you sure?”

Quickly, he swallows the truth. “Yeah, goodnight.”

“Okay, goodnight. . .I’ll talk to you later.” 

On the other end a soreness clutches Dean as he hears the sleepy smile that’s shaping her words. 

A few seconds after she hangs up, the phone cuts the silence by beeping harshly as he sighs then hangs up.


End file.
